


When You Can’t See The Light, I’ll Sit With You In The Dark

by LetThereBeDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cas is brave, Destiel Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Dean, a tiny bit triggering (just the mindset), just some crying, since it's based off real life experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetThereBeDestiel/pseuds/LetThereBeDestiel
Summary: An AU based on the tumblr prompt "You were having a panic attack in the hallway and I was the only one who took any notice".The title of this fic is based on a quote I saw on tumblr too.The specific case and Cas' feelings and actions are mostly based on my own personal experience.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrote this, so it's better quality now. Enjoy!

Dean strolled down the school hallway, scanning the not-so-white-anymore walls. He was a man on a mission: his brother has been feeling down all week, and claimed that the only thing that would make him feel better was Dean signing up for the ridiculous  _Lady and the Tramp_ production at their school. And so, Dean found himself striding through the hallways and searching for that damn flyer he’d seen the drama majors tape to a wall just a couple of days ago.

It was an early hour of the afternoon, and a few students were still roaming the corridors – on their way to class or to the cafeteria, or outside, toward freedom. They were all minding their own business, staring straight forward or gaping into their phones, ignoring their surroundings. It took Dean a moment to notice a shape separated from the dull crowd – a hunched figure sitting on the floor which he, as well as the rest of the students, had passed by mindlessly.

He halted and turned around, examining the figure: it was a small person with long limbs that were covered with faded jeans and a dark hoodie. Their face was buried between their knees, arms wrapped around folded legs. Now that Dean has stopped to take a better look, he noticed the student was shaking. He crouched, touching the trembling elbow reluctantly.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

The student’s head shot up, and both his and Dean’s faces were tinted with surprise as they recognized one another. The shaken student was a blue-eyed, quiet boy who sat at the back of Dean’s English class; usually, he was silent and unnoticeable, never answering questions during class or talking with classmates during breaks. He sat alone, like Dean himself, and – just like Dean – hadn't seemed to form any sort of profound bond with his classmates. Dean would watch him sometimes, when he felt particularly lonely, and the anonymous loner made him feel slightly less alone, as if their solitude somehow linked them together.

Now, the boy’s eyes were wide and red and his whole face was wet with tears, hair disheveled. The contrast to how he usually looked, added to the startled eyes fixated on Dean’s, took Dean aback.

“It’s – it’s okay,” Dean tried after a moment, his grip on the boy’s arm loosening. What was his name? Something strange, an angel’s name… Gabriel? Michael?

The boy, who had seemed to have forgotten about whatever he was going through for a moment, resumed his breathing now. It came in in short and hasty pumps, as if someone punched the air out of his lungs.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Dean asked, his voice weakening at the distressing sight. He’d never talked to the guy before, but through their common solitude, he couldn’t help but feel there was some invisible connection between them. Seeing his stranger friend in such distinct pain, Dean felt compelled to help him. 

The boy’s expression suddenly changed, so dramatically and abruptly, that Dean’s grip on his arm slipped entirely – his lips pulled down and his eyebrows creased, as if someone was physically hurting him, putting him in unbearable pain. Quickly, he tucked his head between his knees again, and the horrifying expression disappeared. Dean’s heart raced in his chest; was the boy hurt? Did he require medical attention?

 “Leave me alone,” the boy mumbled. His voice was hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while, yet more stable than Dean imagined the panicked lungs could manage.

“Did someone hurt you?” Dean finally let out, his fingers replacing on the boy’s elbow. Just when the boy shook his head, Dean finally recalled his name, and his grip tightened.

“Cas!” He called. “Your name’s Cas, right? I’m Dean, we have English together, right?” The boy breathed in flatly, not seeming to take interest in Dean’s questions.

“You sit at the back of the class,” Dean tried to go on, his voice faltering at the boy’s indifference. “Do you know me? I see you in the cafeteria sometimes.”

Castiel didn’t seem to be impressed by Dean’s recollection abilities. He shook his head.

“I know you. Now, please, just leave me alone.” His voice was muffled by tears and denim as he spoke.

“But… You’re hurt,” Dean protested.

“I’m not  _hurt,”_ Castiel insisted. “At least not by  _your_ definition.”

“Then by whose?” Dean asked softly. His shins were beginning to burn with the uncomfortable posture, and he sat down. Castiel didn’t look up as Dean leaned against the wall beside him.

“I am having a panic attack.” His voice broke. “My brain is screwed up.” He breathed shakily. “It’s making my breath come out rapid and my heart race and my hands shake and I can’t stop crying.” His voice was high and unstable now, and his shaking worsened. “And some people have it much- much worse, and I’ll be-“ a shaky breath stole his words away. “-I’ll be fine.”

Dean was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t doubt you’ll be fine,” he said eventually. Hesitantly, he stretched his arm and wrapped it around Castiel’s shoulders, expecting Castiel to shake him off, but he didn’t.

“But while you’re not, it can be comforting to have someone… Just be here, I think.” He gulped. The position was awkward, but he was almost fifty percent sure that physical reassurance helped reduce stress and agitation in humans.

Castiel’s shoulders were trembling.

“Y’know, I’ve heard this somewhere:  _when you can’t see the light, I’ll sit with you in the dark._ I know you don’t even know me, but if that’s okay… I’d like to sit with you in the dark today.” Dean squeezed his shoulders lightly, and Castiel’s body seemed to fall apart; his legs slumped onto the floor and his head moved to rest against Dean’s chest, one hand covering his own face and the other resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s-“ He inhaled sharply. “-stupid.”

Dean waited, unsure what Castiel meant.

“I just- I just got one answer wrong and he- he yelled-“ His words were replaced with a silent and violent surge of shallow inhales. Dean’s forehead creased.

“Are you talking about Mr. Singer?” He asked, rubbing his thumb in circles against Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel didn’t seem to protest, or maybe he didn’t notice. “In English today? He got mad at the whole class, man. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I fucked up,” Castiel said into Dean’s shirt. Once again, his tone was held together much better than his uncontrolled trembling or his words.

“I fucked up.”

Dean tightened his hug, resting his chin on top of the guy’s head. “It’s alright, buddy. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel like that. He shouldn’t have yelled. Everyone gets their answers wrong all the time, it’s not your fault. Not everything is on your shoulders, man.”

Castiel wiped his nose.

“I’m getting your shirt wet,” he noted, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“That’s ridiculous," Dean said. "You’re dyeing it black.”

Castiel looked at the dark stain on Dean’s gray shirt and let out a snort. As his tears began to dry and his breath stabilized slowly, Dean didn’t rush him; he didn’t say a word, just held Castiel in his arms quietly while they watched the oblivious passersby.

Oblivious, all except for one: after a few calm minutes Castiel noticed a student he recognized walking down the hall; Metatron, his obnoxious lab partner, walked past them while drinking from his water bottle.

“Fags,” he muttered when he saw them huddled together, and jerked his bottle toward them. The water spilled over them and Metatron kept walking with a smug smile.

Dean and Castiel stared at one another for a long moment.

Finally, glancing down at Dean’s completely wet shirt, Castiel spoke.

“It was very considerate of him to finish my dyeing job,” he said, and Dean burst into laughter. Castiel watched his head tilt backwards with the warm gesture, and contributed his own hesitant smile.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked with a smile, one hand rising to run through his damp hair, the other still around Castiel’s shoulders.

“Better now,” Castiel said.

Dean cleared his throat, looking down, and scratched his ear nervously.

“Cas?”

The other boy looked at him, wiping his face from fresh water and leftover tears.

“Since this asshole just... I mean- I was thinking… “ Dean pulled his arm away from Castiel and fiddled with a loose thread in his jeans. “We’re both…  I- I was…” He looked up to see the other boy staring at him. “Would- would that be okay if I asked you out to dinner?”

Castiel pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing, and Dean decided to go all the way with ruining his chances; it wouldn’t be such a loss if Cas said no, right? They’d only talked for the first time today. If he rejected Dean they could just pretend this day never happened…

“On a date, I mean?” He stammered out, his heart racing in his chest.

“I- I’m sorry,” Castiel mumbled, his voice rising slightly. “I can’t eat in public…”

“The movies, then?” Dean offered falteringly.

“I-“

“Video games, at my place?” Dean pressed. “Just the two of us, in my room?”

Castiel frowned. “You’re not about to give up, are you?”

Dean smiled at him. “You could say I’m a man on a mission.”

“Dean…” He sighed. “I’m not a good person to be friends with, let alone date.” He shrugged. “My brain is broken in more ways than you can count on your hand. I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to put you through this.”

“Well…” Dean hesitated, thinking Cas’ words through. “It’s my choice what to be put through, isn’t it?”

“I’m not worth it, Dean,” Castiel insisted. “I’m too much work.”

He shied away from Dean’s reached-out hand. The hallway was empty now, the late afternoon setting in.

Dean’s eyebrows rose suspiciously. “If you’re not into me, you just had to say so.”

Castiel squinted at him, faltering for a moment before speaking. “No. I’m not. Definitely not-“

Dean’s eyebrows rose even higher up his forehead. “Convincing.”

Castiel pouted at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to take it back. Instead, he reached his hand and yanked at Dean’s shirt, and before Dean could process the movement their lips were pressed together, moving slowly when Castiel tilted his head.

“Yeah, that’s obviously the face of someone who didn’t just enjoy that kiss,” Dean blurted with a grin as their lips parted – until he saw Cas’ face. He looked like he’s just seen a ghost munching on a baby.

“Okay, seriously, dude, you look terrified,” Dean said.

“This was the wildest thing I’ve done in my life,” Cas replied, his eyes wide. He touched his own face, as if trying to shape it back into a more subtle expression.

“This was the…?” Dean’s forehead creased with surprise. “I’ll have to teach you some tricks, then,” he smiled. Cas looked down, trying to hide a smile. He hadn’t felt this brave in, well – ever.

“Y’know,” Dean added. “I was just looking for some flyer when I found you here. Would you like to, maybe, help me look for it? And then, perhaps help me practice for that stupid audition my brother made me sign up for?”

Castiel beamed, his face a marvelous contrast between a small smile and big, incredulous eyes.

“If you insist,” he shrugged, and his smile widened.

“Lucky I do,” Dean answered with a matching smile, his heart skipping happily in his chest.

“On one condition though.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me dye your shirt again?”

“Anytime you want, Cas.”


End file.
